


Eros.exe

by haganenoheichou



Series: Android YOI AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Future AU, M/M, Pining!Viktor, Sci-Fi, Stripper!Yuuri, android!yuuri, strip club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haganenoheichou/pseuds/haganenoheichou
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov didn't really enjoy the fact that humanity depended on droids. They were good at what they did, but they were too perfect.Until one day, he visits his friend's droid strip club, and a pretty little android slips right before his eyes.Now, that's intriguing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, kamisartvonkunst graciously allowed me to write out the [AU they proposed on Tumblr](https://kamisartvonkunst.tumblr.com/post/165660528982/okay-so-here-is-the-new-victuuri-au-i-wanted-to), and I just couldn't stay away because it's such a great idea!

“You know what? I changed my mind. Let’s go to the _Bolero_.”

“Right away, sir.”

The hovercar made a legal U-turn several hundred meters down, and soon enough, he was speeding off into the opposite direction. The sun was just about to set over the brightly-lit city, and Viktor Nikiforov felt like he had the right to at least have a good time before clambering into bed only to begin his day anew tomorrow morning.

He worked hard – as hard as one could work in a society like this. Most people have taken very quickly to the androids. They cooked, they cleaned; they worked in factories and policed the streets; they drove and made the hover tunnels they drove through – basically, they did everything. After many thousands of years, humans had finally reached the peak of their laziness: one could work if they wanted to, but it was not a requirement. Even the poorest of the poor could afford a machine that would procure food and tend to their house. It was Utopia.

It was _boring_.

Viktor leaned his forehead against the glass and sighed, closing his eyes to fend off the intrusive light of the myriad advertisements polluting the city. It was all just too much. Too much everything. He missed the good old days when his parents had only had a small house away from what people back then called ‘civilization.’ They’d only had a household robot that did the most menial tasks; Viktor had been raised to do most things on his own, which had immediately made him a weirdo. What had turned him into an even bigger weirdo was the fact that he had gone into the performing arts.

To him, at least, it had made sense at the time. He believed that no robot could ever produce something as beautiful as a human work of art: a statue, painting, dance, a piece of music so fantastic, it would send shivers down one's spine. Androids were zeros and ones; they were machinery, they had no appreciation for the aesthetically pleasing.

 Some people, though, thought the opposite. That through science, through meticulous calculations, androids could actually produce the ultimate work of art. That was the reasoning behind the _Bolero_ , Christophe Giacometti's club, filled with exquisite beauties of all shapes and sizes who danced, tantalizingly twisting their bodies and exposing them for the visitor's viewing pleasure. The catch? They were all androids. Non-humans. Mechanical toasters, filled with nothing but wiring and logic boards. They were pieces of junk that could be discarded when they malfunctioned, and new ones could be whipped up in a matter of hours to replace them.

Needless to say, Christophe’s business was booming. The _Bolero_ had become one of the most popular places in town. Viktor had even heard that entrepreneurs from other cities had taken to the idea and started opening clubs like these of their own. But whatever, Chris had told him, his club had been the first, and it would remain the first by being the best.

Viktor, though skeptical of the entire idea behind it, couldn’t help but agree that it was at least a way to pass the time. Better than sitting at home and watching the news on the holostream, he supposed.

That was why, several minutes later, the hovercar whooshed to a halt in front of the most popular club in town. There was a line around the block – a line of androids of all shapes and sizes. Their owners would send them to stand in line for them, and then they'd just show up when their turn was up. Quite smart. Viktor hated it.

What was the point of having someone else wait for you? Wasn't waiting part of it? The anticipation? The slight fear that you wouldn't be able to get inside and feast your eyes on the sight of the shapeful beauties presented there for you? Wasn't there beautiful pain in the rejection from the android bouncer, who scanned people's ID's and made sure they have dressed appropriately, were unarmed, and overall not sleazy? That was something Viktor appreciated – the fact that Chris had pretty tight rules here, despite the fact that his protégés were not human. He didn’t want this place to turn into more of a den of debauchery than it already was. Viktor appreciated that.

The moment he stepped out, all eyes were on him. Android scanners went over him, and the line parted respectfully. Viktor Nikiforov was a pretty well-known face to both humans and robots alike. And being well-known meant that he skipped the line.

He walked inside, allowing the android at the door to take his coat, and as soon as he was in the main room, an arm slung itself around his shoulder.

“Vitya! You made it!”

Viktor rolled his eyes as a suspiciously purple drink was pressed into his hand. Chris, for how well-integrated he was into this world of technology, still enjoyed experimenting at the bar by himself. Sometimes, the results were explosive – quite literally. The man had had a tough time explaining to the fire department drones why the wall in the backroom had been blown off clean. Apparently making literal Jäger bombs was not a good idea.

“Yeah, I made it,” Viktor said, taking a sip of his drink and leaning into Chris’s side. The man was a bubbling mess of energy, already chatting his ear off about this and that model and this and that dancer, and Viktor listened half-heartedly as he glanced around. The drink wasn’t too bad, a little sweet, perhaps, but he enjoyed the warmth that spread from his chest to his extremities as he watched the scenery around them.

Tonight was boys' night. Pretty little things, they were. Well, not all of them – some, for those with particular tastes – were huge, hulking, muscular Adonis-types clad in skimpy little thongs, shaking their behinds at the squealing patrons. The credit machine kept beeping annoyingly as the clients spent, spent, and _spent_ money on tips for the dancers – as if the dancers needed the tips. Come closing time, they'd all be plugged in to recharge in the storage room, their eyes glassed over, their mouths shut. Viktor pictures Chris sitting in his office and cackling like a twentieth-century movie villain as he counted his profits.

Just as he was about to look back at Chris and pretend that he was following the conversation, someone – well, some _thing_ – caught his eye. To the left of the room, in a booth that appeared to be stylized to look like a cage, a lovely android was seductively swinging its hips, reddish brown eyes glazed with artificial lust. It was small, smaller than most, and perhaps a little bit plumper than the others, too, but the way it moved looked strangely natural; almost as if it had been taught to dance by a human.

Viktor watched as the pretty android lifted itself up onto the pole and did a spin with hits legs parted perfectly.

Suddenly, their eyes met. Then, the world froze.

There was a crash as the android fell to the floor in a heap. Viktor’s mouth gaped open.

The patrons, drunk as they were, booed and cooed at the android, which got up clumsily and went back to work, the expression on its face perfectly blank.

Viktor turned back to Chris who was frowning at the android.

“Well, that’s weird,” the man said, shrugging. “Ah, glitches. Can’t help them. At least that one’s adorable enough to make it look cute.”

Viktor lifted an eyebrow. Glitches happened; but they had become less and less common over the years as android technologies had progressed, reaching a rate of one per billion, at the most.

“That a new one?” He asked, nodding his head at the droid.

“Yeah. _Eros_." Chris nodded. "Just got him from this factory in Japan. Dunno what that was, though. Maybe he wasn't calibrated correctly. I'll have the boys run a system check after he’s done, just in case.”

“Pretty. Not your usual style, though,” Viktor observed, pointing at the lumbering piles of muscle in the middle of the room. It was quite obvious that Chris had a thing for abs.

The other blond just laughed. "Well, I did promise to cater to every single possible audience, you know? The patrons seem to like him, anyway. He's… pretty, as you said. Soft. Makes people want to give money to take care of him and stuff."

“And by taking care of him, they’re automatically taking care of you,” Viktor said, smirking. “Get it? Automatically? ‘Cause he’s an android?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “You’re such a cheesy-ass moron, Vitya, I have no idea how you get any.”

Viktor shrugged. The truth was that he hadn’t gotten any in a while. His previous lover had left him several thousand credits poorer and with a small portion of his male ego gone as well; so for now, he was content with not being together with anyone. Just exploring his options and such.

Too bad most options in this town weren't even human, to begin with. And those who were human were either attached already or modified within an inch of their life. Viktor was pretty sure that he and Chris were the last surviving humans without fake body parts (and yes, before you ask, _that_ part of Viktor was also _very_ real and the height of his pride, right next to his ass).

"C'mon, let's get you another drink, yeah?" Chris called over the loud music, and Viktor nodded, his eyes sliding over to the Japanese android who was back in his element, wriggling his hips with his mouth parted and his hair slicked back with fake sweat.

He looked so damn real that Viktor forgot for a moment that he was, in fact, an _it_.

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Viktor found himself wondering back to the club. He would stop by after work and let Chris ply him with his new bartending concoctions. Some days, the Japanese android would be there, and Viktor would feel himself gravitate toward him in what was a definitely unhealthy habit.

The weirdest thing was, though, that whenever the android spotted him, things went haywire.

The first time, Viktor and Chris had both written it off as a glitch; but then the next day, Chris mentioned in passing that the systems check had come back with no errors. Weird.

The next time, two days later, the android went completely off-rhythm in his routine, causing him to stumble. Viktor frowned, and Chris made a note to recheck the android _again_.

Nothing.

The third time, Viktor was right in front of the droid, and when he was spotted, the Japanese beauty just let out an undignified squeal, his hand slipping off the pole and making him have to grab onto it for dear life, finishing his spin in a clumsy display of clinging to the pole for dear life.

“I’m gonna have to send him back, I guess,” Chris said, leaning back against the wall, his eyes hooded as he watched the droid pick his dance back up.

Viktor glanced at him. “Send him where?”

“You know, the production facility. They’re gonna have to check him out. Strip him down probably, since he’s glitching so often. There’s bound to be some sort of defect. I mean, it’s not the software, so it’s something they fucked up in production.”

“So they’re gonna strip down a strip droid?” Viktor asked.

“I hate you.”

Viktor went home that day feeling kind of bad – it was almost like he felt it was his fault that Eros was being sent back. After all, the glitches had started when he’d walked into Chris’ club, right? No, of course not. That wasn’t possible. He’d been coming to the _Bolero_ for years now, and Eros had just arrived, so it was bound to be the droid. Not him.

He still felt fucking guilty, so he dove back into work and resolved not to visit the club for a while. Maybe he was just lacking human interaction. Therefore, the best recipe to cure himself of this misplaced guilt was to associate more with those, humans; he threw himself into producing his latest piece with his all-human troupe, and he was definitely too busy thinking about their routines to reflect on Eros’.

Several weeks later, just as he was closing up at the studio, he received a call from Chris.

“I think the club’s haunted.”

Viktor snorted. "I think you need to stop doing twenty-first-century drugs."

"It's not the drugs!" Chris replied defensively. "I'm serious. There's something weird going on at the club, and the only scientific explanation is a ghost. Or a poltergeist."

“Chris, ghosts are literally the opposite of scientific.”

“Just… come over and see for yourself, you jerk!”

Rolling his eyes at the man’s antics, Viktor ordered his hover car to take him to the club only to find it closed for the night. It seemed as though Chris really was taking the whole ghost thing seriously.

He found the owner at the back entrance, his eyebrows knitted in worry.

“So, I’m here,” he said, crossing his arms. “Now what?”

“Look,” Chris said, bringing up the security footage on his portable Holo. Viktor watched the perfectly boring video of the back corridor, squinting to see what it was that Chris wanted him to see.

“And… what is it that I’m looking at? Man, Chris, you need to get your droids to clean that place, it’s unsanitary,” he drawled.

“Shh!” Christ shushed him. “Watch.” 

Viktor watched. And then he blinked. The next thing he knew, the image changed.

“Uh…”

“See? I told you!”

That door, the door which led to the droid storage, had definitely just been closed, and it was now open. And he’d seen nobody. Nobody could access the door unless they had a passcode. And Chris’ irises.

“And that’s not all that’s weird,” Chris said, minimizing the footage. Viktor looked at him, frowning. There was more?

"Someone's been rearranging the dolls," Chris said. Viktor almost rolled his eyes at the moniker Chris preferred to use for his toasters, but didn't, because this was starting to freak him out a little bit too.

“What do you mean, rearranging them?”

“That same night, when I walked into the storage, some of them were not at their proper charging stations," Chris said gravely. "And before you say it, no, I wasn't that drunk. I couldn't have misplaced them. I take good care of my dolls. You know that."

Viktor didn’t know what to say to that. This all had to have some sort of explanation, right? _Right_?

"Just… tell me what to do," Chris said, latching onto Viktor's arm. “Tell me I’m not going nuts.”

“You’re not going nuts,” Viktor said automatically.

Chris seemed relieved at that. "Should I go to the police with this? I don't know if it's a crime since nothing's been taken, and… itis n't exactly an offense to… uh, replace droids at their charging stations," he said, biting his lip.

“I… I think you should wait. I mean, it’s only happened this once, right? So–,”

“Twice.”

“What?” Viktor looked at Chris blankly. The man glanced down at his feet.

“Twice. It’s happened twice. Yesterday and today.  I didn’t want to tell anyone the first time because I _did_ think I was going crazy.”

“Right. Twice,” Viktor repeated. Well, this was definitely concerning.

“Alright. Tell you what, how about I keep an eye on the club tomorrow night? See if anything happens, yeah?” Viktor said. Chris looked at him as if he’d hung the moon.

“But, don’t you have your production to worry about?”

Viktor shrugged. “Yurio and Mila are big enough to manage their own business for a day. It’s okay, seriously. Just… now I’m intrigued.”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “I knew I could count on you and your obsession with… what’s his name? Sherwood Cumberbatch?”

“Hey, twenty-first century TV was legit!”

* * *

And so, somehow, Viktor had turned into a private investigator of sorts. Well, he even got himself a long coat, so he was the real deal. Therefore, he had to carry out his duties accordingly.

Which had landed him, ballet master extraordinaire, and overall sex symbol, parked across the road from the back entrance of the club with a powdered donut in his hand. Because donuts were essential to stakeouts; or so, he had learned from old movies. He wasn’t quite sure how donuts helped, but… hell, it was good. He just hoped that Yurio wouldn’t see him like this, consuming about a gazillion powdered sugary calories on his day off.

Too bad the donut didn’t really go down well, so now he was kind of choking.

And he’d been here for _hours_ and nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. So, to hell with it, he was going to get himself a drink before he met his maker. He was too young and definitely too good-looking to die. 

With that, he shrugged off his detective coat and left the car, heading for the café to his right. The place smelled divine even from several meters away: it smelled like pure caffeine and subsequent heart attacks.

Just what he needed.

He practically ran inside to the counter and gasped his order ( _coffee, black as my soul_ ), to the droid who nodded and proceeded to prepare his order while Viktor reached for the glass jar on the counter to at least pour himself some water.

He turned around to look at the uncrowded tables, trying to figure out where to sit.

What he saw sent the jar crashing to the ground in a million pieces.

There, completely relaxed, chatting with a slightly darker-skinned and equally attractive friend with a breathtaking smile on his face, and clad in the most atrocious outfit Viktor had ever seen since he’d managed to find _Mean Girls_ in the city archives, sat Eros.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I suck because I promised to add to this story ages ago and now I'm finally, finally back to working on it! Well, life happened, and now I have enough creative juices to get this party restarted. Please enjoy!

“I’m telling you–,” 

“Viktor, can we please just agree on the fact that you may have drunk way too much–,” 

“It was the middle of the day!” Viktor protested, slamming his hand on the metal door of the storage unit for emphasis. Well, at least that had gotten Christophe to look at him – albeit the man still regarded him as he had just escaped a psych ward. 

“Viktor, there is no way,” he said, leaning in to look his friend dead in the eye, so close, in fact, that Viktor could count his freckles, “that _my android_ was out and about having _coffee_ with a friend. You know why? Because one, he was locked up for maintenance and charging all day before the evening show; two, he doesn’t have any friends; and three, _because he’s a freaking android_!” 

The silence hung between them in the air and Viktor broke it with a heavy sigh. 

“You think I’m nuts.” 

“Yes, a little, but what else is new?” Chris said in a light tone that indicated him desperately wanting to turn the entire subject of the conversation into a joke. “You’ve always been a little mad in the most delightful ways.” 

“And what if I prove it to you?” Viktor asked, making Chris groan. 

“Viktor, Eros is an _android_ , there’s–,” 

“I’ll prove it to you,” Viktor said. He grabbed the doorknob and turned it, making the sliding doors come apart. Chris helplessly followed him into the storage unit, sighing dramatically as he went past the rows and rows of motionless, charging droids. They sat side by side, their hands folded neatly in their laps, eyes closed. The only sign of life – if you could call it that – was a permanent glow right in the middle of their chest, orange which would later turn green as they reached their full charge. 

Finally, they halted in front of the second-to-last seat where, perched on his charging station, Eros sat, eyes closed, chest aglow. 

“Wake it up,” Viktor told Chris. 

“Vitya, he’s not even charged yet, and the show is–,” 

“Just _wake it up_ , okay?!” 

Chris stared him down for a long moment until he realized that it was impossible to argue with a determined Viktor Nikiforov. With a long-suffering groan, he reached down to tap the invisible button hidden beneath Eros’ chin. 

A quiet chime broke the near-silent hum of the storage room, and Eros’ eyes opened slowly. It blinked sleepily in an eerily perfect imitation of what a human would look like when waking up and then glanced up at its master with polite yet blank curiosity. 

“Mister Giacometti,” it greeted, smiling shyly. “How can I help you?” 

“Eros,” Christophe said, nodding at Viktor, “this is my friend Viktor Nikiforov. He claims he saw you yesterday at a café with someone, drinking _coffee_. Could you explain to Viktor why it’s impossible?” 

Eros’ eyes turned toward Viktor, and for a moment, the man thought that tiny smile turned mocking, just for a split-second. 

“Of course, Mister Giacometti. Mister Nikiforov, this model is an android and therefore is not equipped with the right organs which would be required to savor coffee. Nor does this model have the authorization to leave the premises without permission from Mister Giacometti,” Eros recited, its voice a perfectly polite monotone which made Viktor feel like ripping at his own precious hair out of frustration. 

“I saw you there,” he said firmly. “You were there.” 

“Perhaps Mister Nikiforov is confusing this model with someone else?” Eros cocked its head to the side. 

“It was you. It was definitely you,” Viktor insisted. “I saw you there, you were wearing this absolutely _ugly_ brown jacket and–,” 

“This model does not own its clothes,” Eros explained calmly. “Everything this model wears when performing is property of the club and Mister Giacometti himself.”

“I– Wait, you make them wear your own clothes?” Viktor turned to look accusingly at Christophe who shrugged as if to say, _why waste a perfectly good thong?_

“There is, therefore, no way possible that this model was outside wearing anything ugly,” the android concluded, sounded almost offended by the insinuation. 

Christophe nodded at it. “Thank you, Eros,” he said, and before the android could respond, he reached down beneath its chin and pressed the on/off button. Immediately, Eros’ eyes became droopy and then slid shut, and it sat back in its charging station as if never having been alive. 

“So, are you satisfied?” Christophe asked, turning to look at Viktor. “Uh-oh.” 

“What?” Viktor asked indignantly, his eyes fixed on Eros’ standby-sleeping face. 

“I know that look.” 

“What look?” 

“The _Viktor Nikiforov is determined, and ya’ll better be ready for this_ look.” 

Viktor’s eyes met Christophe’s – and he was surprised to see that instead of annoyance, his friend seemed to be displaying faint amusement as if he hadn’t expected Viktor to back down just yet. Christophe Giacometti was many things – and one thing he was, was a man who loved being entertained. 

“Damn right.” 

* * *

“You know, you should really just retire and let people who care take over.”

Viktor looked up from his holo-tablet to see Yurio, small, lithe, and angry-looking, tower over him. He then realized that the rest of the dance company were looking at him from the stage expectantly. Instead of keeping an eye on them and working out the kinks in their choreography before the big premiere, Viktor had somehow ended up glued to the screen, browsing through the website of the biggest – and virtually only – android manufacturer in the world. 

UMBRA ROBOTICS boasted a very colorful page, filled with promises of a better, simpler way of living brought to you by your new favorite android companion. Models of every kind, from modestly-priced household ones, which did not even have human faces to advanced, custom-made entertainment and personal – Viktor shuddered – pleasure models. 

“Maybe we should get a droid in here,” Yurio spat, having caught a glimpse of what it was Viktor had been so focused on mere moments before. “Perhaps then we’d have someone who’s actually organized and _good enough_ to–,” 

Viktor rose out of his seat and put the holo-tablet aside. 

“You are right,” he said, offering Yurio the sweetest, deadliest smile he could muster up. “I apologize.” 

The smaller man looked at him skeptically, apparently not buying it as well as the rest of the troupe did. Viktor knew he tended to have that effect on people – a word, a grin, and he was forgiven. The little blond prima was the only person in this entire theater who somehow managed to both piss Viktor off royally but also challenge him in the most creative, wonderful ways possible. 

With a sigh, he made his way toward the stage, asking them to rerun the dance, this time, under his direct supervision. 

“What’s up with you, anyway?” Yurio cornered him later after practice, once all the other dancers had already gone home. The little blond, despite the heights he was already achieving in the world of ballet, had a very tumultuous home life: his mother was hardly ever there, and his grandfather was quite sick, so he tended to stick around longer than the rest if only to have some company (though, of course, he would never admit it out loud). 

“You planning on getting a droid? I thought you hated those things,” Yurio pressed when Viktor didn’t respond, instead focusing on the dim holo-screen in front of him. There had to be something, _anything_ that was off about UMBRA ROBOTICS, and yet, there were only raving reviews of their products, interviews with the inventors and, of course, the man who had started the company and basically single-handedly ran the monopoly on android technology, Mister Leroy. 

Jean-Jacques Leroy looked quite young, younger than most would assume him to be; and Viktor had an inkling that his youthful looks hadn’t been achieved entirely naturally. He was quite effortlessly charming, if not arrogant, but the interviewers seemed to lap him up again and again, apparently unable to withstand his boyish looks and easy disposition. 

Viktor didn’t like him one little bit. 

“He’s dick.” 

The ballet master looked up in surprise at Yurio who had his face scrunched up in a scowl. 

“Leroy,” he said, pointing at the screen. “Total douchebag.” 

“What makes you say that?” Viktor asked curiously. It wasn’t a surprise that Yurio didn’t like Leroy – Yurio hardly liked anyone at all; and yet, anything that could make the argument that the guy was a dolt more convincing was welcome in Viktor’s book. 

“Just look at the way he acts,” Yurio scoffed. “It’s fucking obvious he’s not a _genius_ like they all say, he’s just the face on the billboards. He probably couldn’t even assemble a fucking potato battery if he tried.” 

Viktor snorted. “You seem to have a bone to pick.” 

Yurio crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. “Met him once at a tech conference–,” 

“A _tech_ conference?” Viktor interrupted in surprise. “My, Yurio, you are just _full_ of surprises today–,” 

“Say anything, and I will cut your wiener off and stick it to your forehead. You’re gonna be a fucking unicorn, Nikiforov,” Yurio growled. 

Viktor put his hands up in a peaceful gesture, chuckling softly. “I won’t tell anyone you’re a secret nerd, promise.” 

Yurio stared him down with hard eyes, and then leaned back against the wall, slouching. “He was there, and I wanted to meet him because, well, he’s _Leroy_ , isn’t he? So I did. Went to his _meet and greet_ and all that shit. And he was a total douchebag to me from beginning to end.” 

“What did he do?” Viktor asked curiously. 

“Said if I smiled more, I’d be _almost_ as pretty as one of his dolls,” Yurio spat. “I nearly clocked him in the face, but he had his bodyguards flanking him on all sides, so I just settled for writing angry comments on the forums later. They got deleted as soon as I put them up, of course.” 

Viktor made a face. “Sorry.” 

“Not your fault he’s a dick.” Yurio shrugged. “So, don’t try to change the subject, old man. Why are you suddenly obsessed with droids?” 

Viktor regarded him doubtfully. “Promise me you won’t laugh.” 

“I will make no such promise.” 

The older man sighed and put his holo-tablet aside. “You know my friend Chris?” 

“The creepy dude with the rapist goatee?” 

“The intelligent and good friend of mine, yes.” 

“Probably different people we’re thinking of, but continue.” 

“I went to his club a few weeks ago,” Viktor said, ignoring Yurio’s look of sheer disgust, “and I saw something very strange there. Very out of place.” 

“Moral dignity?” 

“A droid,” Viktor said, “that made mistakes.” 

Yurio frowned. “Like, a glitchy one?” 

“No,” Viktor replied, shaking his head. “This one was different. He… _It_ was different. It was dancing, and it fell multiple times, every time I came to see it, it would stumble, like it _recognized_ me or something–,” 

“Oh, good lord,” Yurio groaned, “has the fame gone to your head so much that you think _droids_ go gaga for you too now?” 

Viktor gave him a glare. “I knew you wouldn’t take it seriously,” he said, moving to collect his holo-tablet. “Forget it.” 

“Wait.” Yurio stopped him, for once actually looking like he was interested. “Sorry,” he said with great effort. “Continue.” 

The older man looked at him for a long moment before dropping back down into his seat. “So this droid, it made mistakes, it behaved… abnormally, but every time Chris had it checked out, it would come back clean. And then, someone started breaking into Chris’ storage unit, the one where he keeps all the dolls for the show. Someone was _rearranging_ them. Nothing was taken, that’s the weird part.” 

Yurio’s frown deepened. 

“And then…” Viktor glanced at him, unsure. “And then I saw that same droid, outside, in broad daylight, drinking coffee with someone. Talking, laughing. Like a _human_.” 

“ _Coffee?_ ” 

“Coffee.” 

Silence hung between them, and then Yurio groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. 

“I really want to tell you that you’re insane,” he said, putting up a hand to silence Viktor when he began to express his indignation. 

“But I won’t.” 

“You won’t?” Viktor blanked for a moment. 

Yurio shook his head. “You may be annoying as fuck and a pain in the ass, and also an old geezer who is way past his prime, but you’re not crazy.” 

“Uh, thanks? I guess?” Viktor could never tell whether Yurio was trying to be nice or not. “So… you believe me? That androids are alive?” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Yurio said. “All I know is that if you say something’s weird, it’s weird; and I will be delighted to see Leroy crash and burn like the stock market in 2106.” 

“You’re really just full of surprises today.” 

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to actually update within a reasonable time! Yay me! Before half of Tumblr descends into chaos over the finale of Voltron tomorrow, have a new chapter where Viktor makes some interesting friends! Also, since Tumblr is currently also kind of a poopy show because of the advent of female-presenting nipples, I made a Pillowfort account just to be safe: follow me [here](https://www.pillowfort.io/haganenoheichou).

Eventually, Viktor’s scheming came to fruition in the most unclimactic manner. He sat outside the club after closing time, almost at daybreak, when the door of the storage room creaked open. Honestly, he was so tired that he didn’t register it right away because it had been  _ weeks  _ since he’d been doing it and it had been to no effect. 

And yet, when he blinked to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things, he was sure: Eros was there, gently letting the door fall closed behind him as if it was perfectly normal for him to be sneaking around like this. He glanced around, zipped up his atrocious sporting jacket, and slowly set off down the alleyway. 

Without thinking twice, Viktor stepped out of his hovercar and tiptoed after him. 

To his surprise, Eros didn’t look like he was going anywhere. He seemed to just wander about for a while, taking in the sights of the dimmed storefronts and lights around him. Bundled up in his oversized clothes, he was quite out of place, but this late at night, it didn’t seem like anyone would care. 

He took careful, shy steps, and avoided eye-contact with the occasional passer-by, hunched over almost as if he was afraid of being seen. For good reason – Viktor couldn’t imagine what they would do to a rogue droid. 

Finally, Eros stepped up to a food stall on the corner of the street, where the fancier district would slowly begin to transition into a seedier, dirtier neighborhood. The kind of neighborhood where street food was a usual occurrence and not everything was tested within an inch of its life before being served to customers. 

The person working the stall seemed to know him - and as Viktor managed to get a little closer, he recognized the man from the previous time he’d seen Eros outside: the darker-skinned stranger with a charming smile. He gave Eros a wide-armed hug and then patted his cheek warmly before allowing him to slip into a seat in front of the stall. Viktor frowned as the young man served up what looked like a bunch of deep-fried food on a cardboard plate, and Eros reached for a piece, only to bring it to his nose and inhale deeply. His eyes closed with pleasure and he looked almost heartbroken as he set it back down. 

Eros couldn’t eat. But he could smell things, couldn’t he? His companion seemed to understand that, ignoring his strange behavior and giving him small, sad glances as he worked on cleaning up his kitchen. 

They exchanged words from time to time, but it seemed as though Eros has just come here for the sheer company of this young man, and for the food he couldn’t even eat. 

Viktor had no idea what made him do it, but he ended up shuffling up to the stall. 

“Hey, can I have what he’s having?” He asked, giving the kid at the stall his usual blinding smile. 

“Sure,” the kid said with a grin, reaching for his card. As he busied himself with Viktor’s order, the latter sat down onto the stool next to Eros, who seemed to tense up right away even at the feeling of having a stranger by his side. 

“So, uh… do you come here often?”

Damn his stupid mouth. 

Eros turned to look at him, and his eyes went comically wide. “Wait, you’re- you’re Viktor Nikiforov!”

The kid behind the counter stilled at that and then turned back to glance at Viktor again. The switch was instantaneous: his cool, friendly professionalism of a street vendor was gone, replaced by bubbling enthusiasm as he started cooking at top-speed, all the while sneaking his friend thumbs up and winks. 

Viktor smiled sheepishly and inclined his head. “That would be me. But please, just call me Viktor.”

His brain failed to catch up before he extended his hands for the droid to take. Eros stared at it for a long moment before taking it almost reverently, as if he was expecting Viktor to disappear into thin air. 

“I... Uh, it’s an honor to meet you,” he said, and Viktor had to compliment his makers on their skill as it appeared as if the android was actually blushing. It wasn’t unexpected for a droid intended for pleasure purposes, as Chris had intended him to be, but it was quite adorable nonetheless. 

“Please, don’t be so formal,” Viktor said with a friendly smile, waving him off. Inwardly, he was the one freaking out: he was pretty sure he was meeting what lay at the core of Eros. If androids had souls, this was it. 

“I’m just here for a snack, as you are,” he said. 

Eros looked down at his untouched food, seemingly ashamed. “I’m... not much of a foodie,” he squeaked out, and his friend shot him a sharp look at that. 

Viktor’s eyebrows crept upward. Clearly, this kid was in on what made Eros so special. He knew his friend was an android. And yet, a moment later, he just turned back to his cooking as if the last few seconds hadn’t happened. 

“So, how do you know the name of a washed-up old balletmaster?” Viktor asked casually as the kid – Phichit, his nametag said, Viktor was finally able to read it in the dim light – served him his food. 

Both Eros and Phichit gave him incredulous looks. “Who  _ wouldn’t  _ know you?” Phichit asked, leaning on the counter and giving up the pretense of being occupied by his kitchen. Viktor was surprised that he found that quite irritating. 

He glanced at Eros, prompting him to speak. 

“I’ve... followed you for many years,” the droid admitted quietly, folding his hands in his lap demurely. The gesture was weirdly endearing and foreign to Viktor, as he had seen the same hands grip a pole and dip beneath lacy waistbands more times than he could count. 

Eros either had no memory of their prior meetings or his droid circuitry was sophisticated enough to put a convincing act. Either way, Viktor was screwed because he was already way,  _ way  _ too interested to let it go. 

“Yuuri here’s been your fan since as long as we can remember!” Phichit said with a giggle, prompting his friend to bury his face in his hands. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked gently. “It’s a beautiful name,” he said before he could stop himself, and Eros – Yuuri – squirmed in his seat, torn between appearing pleased and mortified. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,  _ Yuuri _ ,” Viktor couldn’t help but tease, leaning in toward the android who rocked back on his stool and nearly fell over. 

Phichit burst out laughing, clearly a fan of the show. “You were right, it  _ does  _ sound sexy when he says it with his accent!”

As Viktor glanced at him in confusion and eventual smugness, Yuuri appeared as though he would combust at any moment now. Seriously, Viktor was becoming quite worried about his circuitry since this shade of tomato red was definitely not something he was used to seeing on droids. 

“So,  _ Yuuri _ , you’ve been wondering what it would sound like if I said your name-,”

“Please stop!” The android shrieked, grasping the edge of the bar anxiously. “Please, sir, Viktor, don’t mock me, it’s- I’m sorry, I won’t-,”

Viktor sighed and dipped a finger underneath Yuuri’s chin where he could feel the tiny bump of the standby button. “Mock you? I would never mock you. I am quite flattered.” He examined the droid closely, once more fascinated by the attention to detail his makers had dedicated to him. 

“You are quite extraordinary, Yuuri,” Viktor murmured, and he felt the android twitch beneath his touch, almost anxiously; almost as if he wanted to run away, but he stayed there nonetheless, staring at Viktor with wide eyes. 

Phichit cleared his throat emphatically, and the two broke away from each other – and if Viktor’s intuition was right, Yuuri was just as reluctant to pull away as he was. 

Viktor licked his lips nervously. “I–,” 

All of a sudden, Yuuri’s eyes began to glow amber. The droid, so human in his actions just a second before, stilled, back rigid and face neutral – painfully so. 

It was almost as if he had gone from living to a statue. 

Fear seeped into Viktor’s bones. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor leaned in to touch him, but the android leaned back smoothly, avoiding his hand. 

“System error,” Yuuri informed him in monotone, before getting up and off the stool and moving away, back turned toward them. He walked smoothly, in an easy, programmed manner, so far off from the huddled stumbling of his previous iteration. 

Eros was back. 

Panic seized Viktor. 

“Wait, Yuuri–,” 

“Let him go.” 

Viktor turned back to look at the young man being the counter who was regarding him with lukewarm interest, all of his jovial friendliness gone. He folded his arms in front of his chest and cocked his head to the side, studying Viktor as if he were a fascinating specimen. 

“He won’t recognize you,” Phichit said finally as Viktor sank back onto the rickety stool. “His OS catches him like that and reboots him, there’s nothing you can do.” 

Viktor stared at him blankly. “Wait, you  _ know  _ he’s a droid?” 

Phichit scoffed. “Of course I know. He’s my best friend. Comes here all the time whenever he can, whenever the system glitches and he can break free–,” 

“You’re friends with a droid?” Viktor asked. 

Phichit gave him a dirty look. “You’re the one who followed said droid like some creepy stalker dude.” 

That was true. Viktor hadn’t even realized how it looked. “I swear, I just wanted to find out what was happening to him. I… I saw you two together once. At a café down the street. And I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, because I knew that Eros – Yuuri – was a droid at the  _ Bolero,  _ so–,” 

Phichit’s gaze hardened. “So you’re one of those pervs who drools over–,” 

“I don’t drool over  _ anything _ !” Viktor interrupted loudly. Phichit fixed his eyes on him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. 

“My friend owns the place. I visited once, and then… Eros, I mean,  _ Yuuri _ , he  _ glitched _ . When he saw me. And then he did it again, and again, and then someone started breaking into the droid storage, so I decided to investigate and…” Viktor took a deep breath. 

“And now you’re here,” Phichit finished for him. 

Hesitantly, Viktor nodded. 

There was a pause between them when nothing happened, and then finally Phichit sighed. 

“Look, Viktor, you seem like a nice guy, but trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to get involved with Yuuri. It’s messy, and you are guaranteed to get hurt.” 

“What if I want to?” Viktor asked, leaning in. “What if Yuuri seems like the most alive person around me and he’s a  _ droid _ ?” 

Another moment of silence, then–

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a flair for the dramatic?” Phichit asked, lips twitching in amusement. Viktor took it as a good sign. 

“All the time.” 

Phichit licked his lips nervously, and suddenly, Viktor found himself staring the young man down. Almost as if the dynamics had somehow shifted within the split-second of conversation they’d just had. 

“Fine. Come here on Friday, three a.m.,” Phichit said finally. “Don’t be late.” 

Viktor nodded and slowly slid off the stool. He nodded once more as a way of saying goodbye to the young man who regarded him cautiously from behind the counter. 

Then, he turned back to whence he came. 

“Viktor!” 

The older man turned around just to see Phichit stretch out a hand with a foam container in it. 

“Take some spring rolls for the road.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Should I write more of this? Idek if anyone is into it like I am. In any case, I'd love a comment!


End file.
